


Extraordinary Merry Christmas Sleepover Spectacular

by flickerthenflare



Series: Missing Christmas Episodes [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas, F/F, F/M, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:58:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2803661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flickerthenflare/pseuds/flickerthenflare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel and the rest of the New Directions brainstorm how to hold a festive wrap party for their TV special and properly commemorate the seniors’ last Christmas in glee club. Kurt and Blaine have a hard time saying goodbye to their imaginary Swiss chalet, and Santana adjusts to Christmas without her grandmother. Takes place shortly after “Extraordinary Merry Christmas.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Extraordinary Merry Christmas Sleepover Spectacular

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for mentions of homophobia and foreshadowing of Finn’s death.
> 
> In proper Glee tradition, songs are noted as companions to each section. I’ve always wanted to do a “missing episode” for Glee, so thank you for indulging me.

They’re contractually obligated to clean up the set for the Christmas special. There will be no sneaking away and going home before the work is done, Mr. Schuester cautions when he tells them of this clause at the end of glee club on the last day of school before winter break. Just because they got bumped for a Yule log doesn’t mean they shouldn’t act grateful for the opportunity, and acting grateful includes cleaning up after themselves.

“Seniors, you’re in charge! Let’s make this happen.” Mr. Schuester claps his hands together like it will muster their enthusiasm. “We can’t postpone any longer. The station wants the space. The sooner you get it done, the sooner your break officially begins. Okay? I have plans tonight, so you’re on your own. I’ll see you all next year.” He chuckles at his own joke and then clarifies for Rory’s confused look, “In the New Year!”

The bell rings and drowns out their protests.

“Ugh, he sure tells a lot of dad jokes for a single man in his thirties,” Quinn observes dryly.

“Of course _he_ has somewhere else to be.” Sugar haughtily gathers her belongings.

“Of course.” Puck looks just as unimpressed.

Finn stands to take Mr. Schuester’s place at the head of the room to inspire the masses with more charm and bumbling than his predecessor, forcefully upbeat to counteract their grumbles. “It’s an excuse to spend a few more hours together! Are we really ready to say goodbye for two whole weeks anyway? It’s not like we have plans that start right away.”

Artie raises his hand. “I have plans. They start with no more school obligations starting five minutes ago.”

“But it’s glee club!” Finn says it like that’s all the justification Artie should need.

“You were our director, Artie: set a good example,” Tina agrees.

Blaine looks to Kurt with mild concern. He’s still not used to the New Directions’ chaos. Kurt pats at his hand for comfort.

Santana takes a less tactful route than Tina. “No one has sexy plans that start at 4 o’clock on a Friday. Unless you’re rushing home to catch the latest episode of ‘Magic School Bus,’ you’ve got nowhere else to be. None of you losers have anything better to do than whistle showtunes while you work and pretending differently is not as cute as you think it is.”

“Santana’s family usually spends Christmas with her abuela,” Brittany explains.

The glare Santana responds with is usually reserved for everyone but Brittany. “Like I’m heartbroken some crusty old lady doesn’t want me around for some dumbass traditions. After this year I don’t have to see anyone for Christmas if I don’t want to. Might as well start now.”

“Glee club is like family,” Brittany argues. She reaches for Santana’s hand. “You’re supposed to spend holidays with your family. You can spend it with us.”

“I don’t mind staying after to help. I don’t really have a home to go to, so….” Rory looks around the room for support.

“Know the feeling.” Sam nods in solidarity.

“Yeah, it’s super weird at my house ever since I picked dance over pleasing my dad. I’m going to send out an SOS to the Asian community for rehearsal space that doesn’t come with awkward silences,” Mike says.

Blaine lights up at finally a problem he can solve. “I could stand to learn some new moves between King’s Island Christmas rehearsals. My parents are used to the den being turned into a dance hall by now.”

“Awesome.”

“After we clean up the set, of course.” Blaine smiles winning. “We can spare a few minutes for dancing there too.”

“Kiss up.” Puck scoffs as he stands to leave. The rest of the club follows behind.

Blaine turns to Kurt in bewilderment as they followed behind. “But Finn and Rachel….”

Kurt loops their arms together. “You’ll learn to fit in, new kid.”

***

The purple tree twinkles garishly in greeting on the soundstage.

“Aww, our chalet,” Blaine coos. He holds out a hand for Kurt. “Would you accompany me in tearing it down?”

“ _Gently_.” Kurt accepts the offered hand. “I have plans for that chalet.”

Of course the whole choir sings while they work, joining togetheras one [united, upbeat voice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GfvmM3U16ls).

_It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas_

_Everywhere you go_

Sam tugs down the wreath from the hearth. The stockings are next to go. Mercedes admires the tree before unstringing the tinsel and the lights. Artie joins in to help her, snapping along with the staccato notes, crisp and precise. 

_There's a tree in the Grand Hotel_

_One in the park as well_

_The sturdy kind that doesn't mind the snow_

Brittany finds the fake snow and tosses snowballs that don’t stick together. Quinn shrieks and hides behind the piano only to be pushed out of the way by Sugar. Rory follows after Brittany pushing snowflakes into neat piles for someone to sweep up before someone else runs through them.

Santana catches Brittany before the fake snow covers more ground and they collapse into giggles by the fake fireplace. There's a loud cymbal crash behind them.

_And mom and dad can hardly wait_

_For school to start again_

Finn and Puck don their Star Wars costumes once more to trick themselves into thinking it’s fun being back on set, and they alternate between lightsaber fights and carrying boxes. In his retreat, Finn slides behind the drums, picking up the tempo for them and tossing the lightsaber to Blaine to take his place.

_It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas_

_Soon the bells will start_

Tina does more dancing than packing. Mike eagerly joins her, shaking garland and then purple branches from their deconstructed tree on their way to drop them in the box.

_And the thing that will make them ring_

_Is the carol that you sing_

_Right within your heart_

Boxes stack by the door and the pile grows progressively. The color disappears into boxes, leaving shades of brown and white behind. Strings of lights pile up. The lights give one last flicker before Sam pulls the plug. When the song ends, they’re left on a bare sound stage. 

At the end of their song Rachel intercepts Mercedes with a warning that she’s going to take her arm and links them together, pulling her away from gossiping with Tina.

“Mercedes! How do your parents feel about Christmas?”

“Like it’s an overly commercialized spectacle that’s rapidly losing all meaning.” The _why?_ is heavily implied as she lets Rachel steer her.

Rachel’s stage-bright smile doesn’t waver. “Does that make them more or less likely to host a holiday slumber party?”

“I think they’d insist on calling it a Christmas party, first of all, with no drinking and boys couldn’t stay the night. I doubt it’ll suit your intentions, whatever they are.”

“My _intentions_ ,” Rachel says with a dramatic flourish that makes Mercedes give her a wide berth, “Are for us to throw a wrap party for our television debut! I always knew I'd be on TV some day but this is just the beginning of a tantalizing, completely unattainable dream for some of you that should be celebrated!”

Mercedes’ eyebrows arch higher.

“My dads and I are going to toast my debut over virgin mimosas at our rental cabin in Vermont over New Year’s, but until then I have nothing to distract me from my potential rejection from the school of my dreams and the looming diaspora of the only friends I’ve had in my whole life, and I’m not the only one who could use a little distraction. We’ve been so busy planning the show that we haven’t put any thought into the after-party. I suggested my place to my dads, but it turns out they _did_ find out about our party last time and are unwilling to have our house overrun by hooch-happy hooligans again. Sorry.”

Kurt looks up with fleeting interest. He’s less amazing at hiding his eavesdropping than he thinks. Quinn catches sight of him and starts listening in as well.

Mercedes relents, saying, “I think the idea of spending time together is nice. From now on, Christmas means coming home to our families from wherever we end up after this year. If we only have a few days, it’s going to be harder to get time together.”

“We _are_ family. We’ll make time,” Tina says. Kurt and Quinn weren’t the only ones listening in, it seems.

Quinn takes a more realistic approach. “We can make a lot of promises, but you know it’s going to be hard.”

“Not if we _matter_ to you,” Tina shoots back.

Rachel holds up her hands to silence everyone. The whole choir gives her their attention.

“Yes, we're overcome with uncertainty about our futures, but we can keep holding onto the time we have,” she informs them like determination can make it so. “Which is why I firmly believe we should have one last yuletide hurrah for the seniors. We'll get to enjoy each others company, and carol, and we can perform all the songs Artie deemed too deep and meaningful for the audience to handle.”

“Just the seniors?” Mercedes asks.

“And Blaine,” Kurt argues with his knack for joining conversations he’s not a part of. ~~~~

“And Tina?” Tina interjects.

“Yeah, Artie too.” Finn adds. Finn and Artie fist bump.

“Well, now it just seems mean: we’re excluding all the newcomers who aren’t Blaine. Sam has been around longer than Blaine has and Rory is our guest. And Sugar…” She flounders for a justification for Sugar. “She possibly has special needs.”

“She admitted she was lying about that,” Santana responds drolly.

In a low whisper to Sugar, Rory says, “They know we can hear them, right?”

Sugar pretends to understand him and nods empathically.

“Whatever we plan, it’ll have to be soon. Burt promised to drive me to see my folks tomorrow. I’ll be gone the rest of break,” Sam says.

Rachel turns to Blaine. “Blaine, aren't your parents conveniently yet inexplicably out of town?”

Blaine looks affronted. “Why do you guys all think that?”

“Finn and Kurt? Can you host? And Sam too I guess.” Rachel looks at them hopefully.

Finn looks to Kurt, who shakes his head minutely. “I think our parents will see the ulterior motives to a glee club sleepover that includes who we’re dating.”

They fall quiet as they consider their other options. Tina startles them all by breaking the silence. “We'll come back, right here, to the stage!”

“This is a soundstage, not an auditorium,” Artie protests. “Someone else’s soundstage that we need to vacate.”

“We'll build it again in the auditorium! We'll have everything we need - couches, a piano...”

“Permission?” Mercedes asks drolly.

Puck bolts upright from his slouched position. “If we break in, we don’t need permission.”

“Inspiring as always.” Kurt rolls his eyes.

Puck dangles a key in front of them. “I made a copy of Schue’s keys ages ago. I don’t use them much. Turns out I’d rather get out than in and there’s nothing worth stealing.”

“Thank you for your honesty.” Rachel holds out her hand for Puck to drop the key in.

Puck regards her skeptically. “ _Not much use_ doesn’t mean it’s _free_. I keep the key.”

Rachel’s enthusiasm is not deterred. She turns to address the rest of the room. “It's decided! Our post-television-debut-slash-seniors-last-Christmas party will commence in the choir room! Arrive promptly at 9 PM to break in.”

“Okay. So between now and then, we have to load everything, lie to our parents about where we are, get supplies, break into school....” Brittany paused as she thinks of what else to add to the list.

“And get our party on!” Sugar claps. 

Tina leans in to giggle in Mercedes' ear, “Rachel Berry trainwreck party extravaganza take two.”

***

Blaine carries a box to the partially filled back hatch of the navigator. Snow starts to fall. The sun has set, and parking lot lights guide his way.

“It feels strange to pack up boxes before Christmas. We're shutting down the party before it's supposed to start.” He pouts at the tinsel he pushes further back into the hatch.

“Not if Rachel and her slumber party spectacular has anything to say about it.” Kurt fits his box in alongside Blaine’s. “What _I’m_ going to miss is the set now that it’s in boxes. I keep thinking about our chalet.”

“And how fabulously you'll decorate it when it’s real?" He nudges Kurt to get a smile out of him.

“About being there with you. Spending time together.” Kurt hesitates before saying, “Not having to say goodnight at the end of a day.”

“It was a fantastic thing to pretend,” Blaine agrees. His husky voice betrays he’s not unaffected by Kurt’s fantasy.

Kurt rests against the bumper of the car. The car hatch covers them from the snowfall. He scoots closer so they're shoulder to shoulder. Blaine smiles fondly at him. They will be missed if they linger too long, but they can take a moment.

Kurt reaches into his pocket and flips open the lid of the gum wrapper box Blaine gave him. “What finger does a paper ring go on?”

“Whatever one will fit. If I know your fingers well enough...” With a wink Blaine slips it on Kurt’s ring finger for him.

It fits perfectly, but it’s too delicate to wear often. It's meant to be replaced with something more solid. Kurt admires the ring under the car lights. “One day…”

Blaine admires it with him with a twinkle in his eye. “Go on.”

[Kurt’s voice rings brightly](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hQrheZTpvNM) on the opening line as he sings high and bright, answering in song. “ _Sleigh bells ring_ … _are you listening?_ ”

Blaine grins immediately. He joins in shortly thereafter, the song perfectly matched with his tendency to croon. “ _A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight_.”

“ _Walking in a winter wonderland_.”They leave the shelter of the car hatch to enjoy the snow falling around them in lazy, fluffy clumps. Blaine offers Kurt his hand to dance.

Powdery snow kicks up under their feet. Kurt parked his car directly under a street lamp, providing them a spotlight in the darkened parking lot. They dance toward the edge of light and back.

“ _He'll say: Are you married? We'll say: No man._ ” 

“ _No, man_ ,” Kurt echoes. Kurt’s paper ring shines on Blaine’s shoulder. He admires his fake ring when they reach the line about getting married. “ _But you can do the job when you're in town_.”

 _“Later on, we'll conspire, as we dream by the fire.”_ Blaine puts a flirty bounce in the words. “ _To face unafraid, the plans that we've made_.”

Kurt joins in for the last line of “ _walking in a winter wonderland_ ” with a flirty smile of his own.

The pavement is slick underneath the snow. They hold tight onto each other.

“ _To face unafraid_ was always one of my favorite lines. I like that it recognized that the future, even one you intend for yourself, is something you can fear. You give me courage.” Snow catches in Blaine’s eyelashes. Kurt brushes it away.

“You keep giving me promises.” Kurt brushes the snow from Blaine’s hair next, following the swoop of a slicked down curl. The snow keeps falling.

Blaine catches Kurt’s hand and threads their fingers together. “You are the man I am going to marry one day. And that is a fact. And until then we have fantasies, and plans to make, and a trainwreck sleepover to attend.”

“A sleepover sounds like an amazing excuse to spend time with you." Kurt agrees. "I should know: I've used it.”

“You'll sleep next to me?”

“Of course. You're far more comfortable than the choir room floor.”

Blaine laughs and ducks his head.

“Like I’d miss the chance to hold you. What's the point of a jointly owner chalet if we don't take advantage?”

“And live in a fantasy a bit longer?”

“It seems like, lately, whatever I wish for becomes real, at least when it comes to you. You’re not even Blaine Warbler anymore.”

“I guess not. Please don’t call me Blaine New Directions.”

Kurt laughs. “Who do you want to be?”

“Yours.”

Kurt’s lips part. Nothing comes out. “Blaine...” Blaine promises more than a person should.

“Too much? Blaine asks at Kurt’s following silence, thick brows furrowed.

Instead of answering with words, Kurt bumps his nose affectionately against Blaine’s. Blaine takes advantage of their close proximity to pull him in for a kiss. The kiss is warm and affectionate and Kurt is reluctant to let Blaine end it.

Blaine manages to pull back despite his own reluctance. “We should hurry back. We’re taking too long each time we come out here to be remotely believable.”

Kurt spares a sideways glance at the direction they came from before he reels Blaine back in. “Let them wait.”

***

Mercedes weights her carpool options in the crisp outdoor air. She followed Sam to the parking lot on the ride there, despite her better judgment, and ended up sandwiched in the backseat of Kurt’s car between Sam and Puck like it was the ride of boyfriends and unrequited love affairs past. She may have lingering feelings for Sam, but she’s not putting herself through that again.

The rest of the club splits up to pick up supplies for their slumber party. Mercedes surveys her options. Kurt and Blaine are lost in their own world that doesn’t invite passengers. She’s not going to play third wheel to Finn and Rachel either. If she doesn’t decide soon, she’s going to be left behind.

“Get in, loser, we’re going caroling,” Quinn calls with a self-amused smirk, looking cool and composed in an ice blue winter coat as she waves Mercedes over. She's sweeter to Mercedes than she is to most people, or more genuine about it. She beckons Mercedes toward her car where Santana and Brittany wait. Brittany kicks at the real snow building with a satisfying flurry under their boots, dancing and turning to see the path she creates. Santana watches her fondly, her own smile sweeter than usual.

“You’re in the front by me. Santana and Brittany want to sit in the backseat together anyway.”

“Um…” Mercedes might regret this carpool as well – Santana and Brittany aren’t known for their discretion.

“We’ll keep it PG-13.” The indulgence in Santana’s tone is clear. She laces Brittany’s fingers with hers with a possessive tug. They hold hands as they slide in, side by side. Brittany buckles herself into the middle seat to be as close to Santana as possible.

“Okay, phones out, ladies. Initiate the Circle ofSleepovers,” Quinn instructs from the driver’s seat.

“Circles of what now?” Mercedes pauses briefly from playing with Quinn’s radio.

Santana responds first. “Unholy Trinity guarantee. It has never kept us from a party yet. I say I’m at Quinn’s.”

“And I say I’m at Brittany’s,” Quinn says.

“And I say I’m at Santana’s!” Brittany finishes. “I don’t know how I’m going to get away with things in college.”

“You won’t be living with your parents, Britt-Britt.” Santana explains patiently.

“So I’ll have to call long-distance?”

“They won’t know.”

Quinn catches Mercedes’ eye in the front seat. “We’ll make you a link in the circle. You can say you’re at my place.”

Santana looks mildly put out. “Since when are we a foursome?”

The question is directed to Quinn, but Mercedes answers. “Since our newfound sisterhood through the Troubletones?”

“The Troubletones would throw an awesome slumber party,” Santana concedes.

“Even better than a impromptu one that involves trespassing and a Swiss chalet set piece?” Mercedes asks.

Santana shrugs and settles against Brittany. “If Berry wants to fix everything with all night sing-alongs, I’m going to let her. But it’s our duty to make this party slightly less lame, so we should get on that.”

“Everyone brainstorm a girl power Christmas song to blow the glee club’s collective minds when we perform it in the auditorium,” Quinn instructs.

“Something wanky with slinky costumes. I want to feel like I’m _worth_ something.” Santana jests with a hard edge that has Brittany squeezing her hand a second later.

“Please say _Mean Girls_ ,” Mercedes jokes.

Brittany pumps her fist in response. “Jingle Bell Rock.”

“I was joking,” Mercedes clarifies, but it’s no use.

“Dibs on Regina,” Quinn says.

“You’re calling dibs on the villain?” Mercedes looks between the trio of best friends all visibly excited by the prospect.  

“Absolutely,” Quinn says.

“It’s the best part,” Brittany agrees.

“Bitch is the most fun role to play,” Santana says.

“All we need is knee-high black boots, matching sexy Santa outfits with jingle bells, fake boobs, and a stereo to kick in someone’s face.” Brittany counts out the items her fingers.

Santana raises her hand. “I have a list of nominations.”

Mercedes can almost hear the beginning strains of the sultry song and picture the group daydream sharpening into focus. The restrained tones, breathy and like a whisper. She changes the radio station to shake loose from their fantasy sequence.

“Mercedes?” Quinn prompts.

“I don’t have to be a part of…” Mercedes starts to protest. They hardly need a fourth person.

“Newfound sisterhood,” Quinn repeats. “We’ve been there for each other through some miserable times. You should be with us for the fun too.”

Mercedes still hesitates. “Do they make sexy Santa costumes with pants?”

“ _Hot_ pants.” Brittany laughs at her own joke.

“You’d rock the slinky look,” Quinn reassures her.

“Oh, I know.” Mercedes smiles at her own forceful self-confidence. “But I’d rather _sing_. I don't think a sexy Santa costume suits me. It's one thing to dress up for a show, but I can't wear that and be me.” It’s the Unholy Trinity’s niche, but not the Troubletones’, and definitely not Mercedes’. A voice like hers isn’t one to waste on a whisper, no matter how sultry it’s supposed to be.

Santana rolls her eyes dramatically. “I don’t want to sing some goodie two-shoes songs appropriate for the old folks home.”

“Or your grandmother?” Mercedes asks pointedly.

“Go party with a gospel choir!” Santana snaps. For a second Mercedes fears she’ll be the next person Santana slaps. Instead, Santana declares vehemently, “Wear a shapeless robe and wail about pregnant virgins, whatever, but I don't want to sing about snow in Africa or whatever Bono crapped out. I don't want to do a kids song about unwanted misfit toys or whos who learned the meaning of Christmas without presents. I don’t want to be good. _You_ do what makes your family proud; that’s not gonna be me.”

Brittany pets at Santana reassuringly. Mercedes shuts her mouth and lets of waves of Santana’s sudden rage crash and hopefully abate. She goes back to busying herself with the radio, which plays station after station of Christmas songs. Mercedes quickly skips over _Feliz Navidad_ and _Donde Esta Santa Claus_ with a furtive look at the back seat in case they provide more reminders of a grandmother who cut Santana out of her life and set Santana off again.

In a hushed whisper Mercedes asks Quinn, “Shouldn't we do something more substantial than a song and dance to help Santana out?”

"It'll help, trust me," Quinn replies.  “Sometimes the best way to deal is either sing about your feelings or distract yourself with something fun. I think she’d prefer to start with the latter.”

Mercedes settles her channel flipping on the beginning of on N SYNC’s _[Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wKj92352UAE)_.

"Oh my god, this earworm," Santana groans.

“I can change the station.” Mercedes’ hand hovers over the dial.

“Turn it up! I know all the words.” Brittany bounces upright.

“Every pre-teen girl at the time knows all the words.” Quinn laughs.

"You heard her: turn it up. It's going to be stuck in my head all day whether we listen or not." Santana’s smile twitches, whether for Brittany’s exuberance or the song from their childhood.

Mercedes turns the song up.

They sing happy and rowdy the rest of the way to the auditorium.

***

Rachel and Finn are the first to arrive at McKinley. They wait inside Finn’s truck for everyone else to show up. Finn’s windshields wipe away the snow that continues to fall. Rachel taps at her phone screen with frozen fingers and then pauses to rub her hands together.

“Of all the gifts, you couldn’t have put ‘gloves that work with touch screens’ on the list?” Finn teases. Now he has her next gift idea, and he came up with the idea all on his own, no interference from her or Kurt. He should write that one down.

She holds out her left hand for him to warm between his and tuts at her slowly loading phone in frustration. Her breath puffs in the chill. “Where are you, Finn Hudson?”

Finn holds out his arms and gestures at his lanky form with a crooked as if she somehow missed it alongside of her. “I’m not good with street names. Do I need to know the address?”

“I’m trying to find your star. I want to be able to place it somewhere. You have to know what you’re wishing on.”

Finn watches bemused.  “I don’t think GPS covers space.”

“Everyone is getting that Christmas/New Years nostalgia the closer we get to the date. They keep saying how things are going to change, and… I want to go to New York and prove how much I belong there and it’s silly to get caught up in goodbyes months before they happen but I can’t help it. It’s almost New Years – I can’t help thinking about time. This upcoming year is our graduation year, and the year we start college, and the year most of us are supposed to become adults. We'll all be somewhere else next year, and half of us don't know where. _Everything_ is going to change.”

Finn listens silently and Rachel lets out a little laugh at herself. They’ve dated long enough to be used to each other’s peculiar moods and try to humor them when they can.

“My star is going to be in one spot, and I want to know what that spot is. I want to be able to find you anytime you’re not around.” She holds up her phone. “I’m trying to get coordinates.”

“You know it’s there even if you can’t see it past the snow. Stars move. Or we move. Maybe both? Next year we won’t even be here. You’ve got your big New York dreams, so you’ll have to figure out where it is in relation to there.”

Rachel frowns at the falling snow that obscures her view of the night sky. She wraps her scarf tighter around her neck. “It’s so cold.”

Finn breathes in and out of his mouth to watch the puffs appear and disappear. “There was this thing on the radio about how winter is, like, historically, a time of great uncertainty, what with the possibility of running out of food and starving or getting snowed in, but winter is also beautiful as long as you know it’s going to end. That sounds kind of deep for a message sandwiched between toothpaste jingles. I think it was for diamond? I don’t know.”

“I have a song for you. It makes me think of you. Do you want to hear?”

“Did you add a verse to ‘Only Child’?”

Rachel purses her lips in a restrained laugh. “You don’t know this one but feel free to join in on the chorus.”

She pulls a cd out of her purse. Finn turns the car back on [to make it play](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-IsiAfjhck). The heat rattles to life.

She turns to face him as she sings. “ _I get a little warm in my heart when I think of winter.”_

Finn smiles fondly as he listens to the song he doesn’t know. It’s soft and sad, like “River” when she sang it earlier in the week. He doesn’t quite get the words, but he gets the feeling.

_"I hear a voice, ‘You must learn to stand up for yourself, ‘cause I can't always be around.’"_

Finn warms her cold hand between his.

“ _He says, ‘when you gonna make up your mind, when you gonna love you as much as I do.’”_ Rachel sings with her whole body in the small, enclosed space, filling the truck cabin with emotion. _“’When you gonna make up your mind, ‘cause things are gonna change so fast.’”_

Finn picks up the words of the chorus and sings backup for her, happy to support her while she works through her feelings through song.

She slides across the space between them and tucks herself under his arm. “ _I tell you that I'll always want you near; you say that things change, my dear_.”

The song fades and leaves an uneasy melancholy. They both look up at the blur of white snow falling that blocks the stars.

***

Rachel and Finn startle out of their reverie when a car door slams elsewhere in the school parking lot. Tina, Mike, Sam, Sugar, and Rory all pop out, followed by Santana, Brittany, Quinn, and Mercedes in a separate car. Kurt and Blaine tumble out of Kurt’s car shortly thereafter. They missed Artie and Puck’s arrival completely.

Tina beckons Mercedes over to look inside her oversized purse. “I brought sparkling cider in a wine bottle so we can laugh at whoever lets the placebo take effect.”

Mercedes lips form in an ‘o’ of delight. “Genius.”

“My bet is on Blaine,” Tina smirks.

“Too easy.”

“And Rachel. We’re going with low body mass and proclivity for dramatics.”

Mercedes shushes her as they get closer to the crowd at the auditorium door, boxes in tow. Puck leads them up the wheelchair ramp and undoes the lock with his ill-gotten key. The ragtag choir stands out brightly colored against the dark night.

Inside the auditorium, the muted ghost light is the only source of brightness, but they can see each breath they take as clearly as they could outside. The auditorium seems bigger in dark and emptiness.

“Holy crap,” Santana swears. She hugs her arms tight around herself. Brittany hides her face in Santana’s shoulder for warmth. Tina warms Mike’s hands in hers.

“I think the heat in our chalet is on the fritz,” Kurt observes in a wry, low tone to Blaine.

“They must've shut off the heat already," Mercedes explains. “Figgins isn't going to heat the place when no one's supposed to be in it. Lauren Zizes threatened a lawsuit against the school to get it up to a livable temperature when students _are_ here.”

“Look on the bright side: we could probably keep real snow in here,” Santana snarks.

Brittany follows sincerely with, “We’ll build an igloo!”

“It's part of the winter magic! If you sing and dance hard enough, you won't notice it's cold.” Rachel nudges Finn to contribute.

“Uh, yeah! It’ll be like camping!”

“Without the moral superiority of knowing you communed with nature rather than taking advantage of centuries of architectural and technological advancements,” Artie says.

“Rachel, we know you're fine with suffering for your art, but some of us like feeling our toes.” Mike wiggles his for emphasis.

“Let's just relocate to the choir room,” Tina says. “It's a smaller space to heat, and the choir room has always been our refuge.”

“Everything seems brighter against with those glaring orange walls as a backdrop,” Blaine agrees.

Kurt shakes his head ‘no’ so emphatically his hair flops.

They abandon their boxes on the stage to traipse down an uncharacteristically quiet hall with their breath puffing in front of them. They crash to a halt at the sight of a light from the choir room that shines into the hallway.

The creep closer to see Mr. Schuester on the piano bench.His hands hover over keys he doesn’t come close to touching, playing in the air instead, his eyes closed and his whole appearance distant. His rendition of _[It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9pvL-SFVcKY) _ sounds mournful in comparison to theirs earlier that evening.

“Can someone tell him this isn't a dirge?" Artie asks. "This is more depressing than Joni Mitchell.”

Mr. Schuester turns at the noise. The more impressionable glee members, like Blaine and Finn, startle at being caught, while Santana stares back expectantly without a hint of shame. 

“Is that alcohol in your bag?” Mr. Schuester asks.

“It’s sparkling cider, I swear!” Tina crosses her heart.

“We're not getting into trouble! We just wanted to ... Spread some cheer!” Finn argues. Rachel smiles too brightly by his side and nods too eagerly in agreement.

“I have to say, I’m disappointed. Breaking into school? Bringing alcohol and lying to me about it?”

A chorus of excuses follow.

“We didn’t have any place to go!”

“This is hardly the most illegal thing we could do.”

“You said the seniors were in charge.”

“It’s just a cast party! We’re not ready to go home.”

Sam is the last one to add, “There’s too many of us for one family to deal with. You’ve got to understand that, Mr. Schue.”

“What are you doing here?” Finn asks. “I thought you had your own family thing.”

Mr. Schue sighs. He works himself toward being disappointed in them instead of just glad for the company, but his authoritative teacher persona doesn’t stick. “Emma and I agreed we’d each spend the evening with our parents, but it came time to leave and I couldn’t convince myself to go.”

“They’re blowzy alcoholics,” Finn whispers helpfully to Rory.

“I came here instead.” Will plunks at a lone key. “I thought I would have my own family by now.”

Rory looks sympathetic. Santana looks repulsed. Rachel, however, sparkles as an idea hits her. “I have the perfect solution.”

***

The Schuester-Pillsbury house is warm and inviting. Rachel bounces and grins when her contentment can't be contained a second longer. "Yay holiday cheer!" 

Quinn smiles fondly and follows her inside. 

“Is staying in the home of your teacher another American tradition?” Rory asks Sam as they follow the others to the stoop.

“I…er…Well, it’s…not usually…” Sam holds the door and ushers Rory in. “We can do it anyway.”

“Extenuating circumstances,” Blaine provides.

Sam looks at him in surprise given their frosty interactions so far. “Right, that.”

“We’re kind of like family.” Finn claps them both on the back. Blaine and Sam both grin in response.

The normally quiet little home for two bustles at being filled with seven times its typical occupancy. Hats and scarves and coats and boots come off at the door with a hushed warning from Mercedes that they need to make their presence easier on Emma and “check the trainwreck tendencies at the door.”

“Ooh, can we make Christmas cookies? It’ll totally beat the holiday cheese puffs I stashed. They’re red and green and disgusting,” Sam says.

“I have a recipe!” Rachel offers.

“No one wants your cardboard apology cookies with sprinkles on top. We’re making alfajores.” Santana pulls open drawers and cupboards with a loud clatter. 

“Alpha-what?” Finn asks.

Santana shifts uncomfortably, her anger never far from the surface when she has to suffer through admitting to other, unwanted emotions. “I used to make them every year. They taste like Christmas.”

“I’ll help with the cookies,” Mercedes volunteers. She offers Santana a tentative smile.

Rachel beams even brighter. “We’ll make them together. I think we can fashion a star cookie cutter. If they’re shaped like stars, that makes it a new tradition that’s _ours_.”

In the living room, Artie has created his own crowd.

“Turn on the Yule log!” Artie directs. “It’s probably still on.”

A crowd forms around the TV.

“If we watch carefully, we can figure out where the loop is,” Tina says. 

Behind them, Kurt and Blaine take over repurposing the set’s ornaments in the Schuester-Pillsbury home, and they show no restraint. Emma’s classy style clashes with the exuberant explosion of holiday decorations. The purple tree stands opposite the Schuester-Pillsbury green one. They smile proudly at the end result.

The evening is a blur of activity and flour-related incidents until finally they collapse onto the floor of the living room circled around the eternally looped Yule log, disaster in their wake and contented smiles on their faces. The bedding they lay out is an indistinguishable tangle around them. Quinn’s head drops onto Mercedes’ shoulder. Tina threatens to fall asleep as well.

“Can we get a flashlight and tell scary stories?” Blaine asks between nibbles at a star shaped alfajor.

“Make it seasonally appropriate and get an advent candle.” Mercedes plucks one out of a wreath on the coffee table.

“Ms. Pillsbury has this one that smells like waffles.” Finn holds a jar candle in the air.

“How do you know it’s Ms. Pillsbury’s?” Tina retorts.

Sam takes a whiff of the candle. “Good point.”

Mr. Schuester plucks the candle out of Finn’s hands with a distant look in his eyes and lights it. “Back when I was in glee club, Breadstix used to be a pancake and waffle house. It was the only place in Lima open after 10 PM. We used to go there after performances that went well enough that we couldn’t stand letting that feeling of victory end. We’d stay until they’d close.”

“Waffles smell like victory. Good to know.” Finn nods.

Mr. Schuester hands the candle back to Finn saying, “Terry was the one who was into candles, but I kept this one after the divorce. It’s nice to have the reminder of the glory days.”

“Who has New Year’s resolutions to make on the smells-like-victory candle?” Rachel asks, holding out her hand for Finn to hand it over.

“No, no, no!” Each word from Santana escalates. “We’re not doing the twee promise to stay in touch thing that I know at least one of you is going to make. What is it about this time of year that makes people capable of living in the present? No one’s going anywhere for months. Unless Finn is resolving to give up cheese doodles, I don’t want to hear it.”

Puck plucks the candle from Finn’s grasp and muses, “Maybe this will be the year that being a better person sticks.”

Santana pulls an unimpressed face and viciously bites into another alfajor.

“I meant for me!” Puck raises his hands in the air.

“Take a big whiff of the waffle candle to seal your resolution,” Finn instructs.

“That’s not a thing.” Puck obliges anyway. He pushes the candle toward Tina next.

“I don’t do resolutions. How do I know what I want out of this year until it’s right in front of me? Except for solos: I know I want solos.” Tina laughs along with her friends at that.

“I want out of Lima before I have to see what Breadstix becomes next. That place is an institution,” Mike says.

Tina squeezes his hand.

“Every year I resolve to start fresh, and then within the first few days something happens and it’s like, well, you’ve screwed that up already. So when it happens this year, my goal, besides my _actual_ goals, is not to give up what I’ve committed to.” Blaine primly wafts the candle scent toward his nose before passing it on to Sam.

“Next year I’ll be one of the seniors, and it’s going to be awesome,” Sam says. “The fun’s not going to stop when the rest of you leave Lima in the dust. I’m glad to be back here to experience it, even though I had to leave my family behind.”

“There’s enough of us sticking around that you don’t ever have to feel alone,” Tina responds.

“You’ll cover everything that hurts with a crap-ton of sequins and body glitter.” Santana’s smile is more sad than sardonic.

“What do you want for the new year, Mr. Schue?” Finn asks, sounding uncharacteristically serious.

Mr. Schuester pauses too long before answering. He settles on, “I want everyone to go to sleep at a reasonable hour.”

Quinn groans. “More dad jokes.”

Mr. Schuester stands, breaking the circle. He projects using his well-rehearsed teacher voice. “Boys in the dining room, girls in the living room.”

To the sound of their own grumbles, the boys detangle themselves. Most of the boys, anyway. Will looks pointedly at Kurt and Blaine snuggled up together at the foot of Tina's armchair when neither of them moves.

“Blaine.” Mr. Schuester lets it hang in the air, waiting for Blaine’s sense of guilt to fill in the rest. Blaine’s desire to be a good guest wins out after approximately 20 seconds.

“Just Blaine?” Kurt catches Blaine’s hand as he stands with a tight grip on Blaine’s arm before he can move further.

“We decided at nationals last year that you could stay with the girls. Let’s not backslide.”

Kurt’s jaw clenches.

“This arrangement would be a lot more convenient if I was single.” Brittany detangles herself from Santana, loops her arm through Blaine’s, and tugs him with her to the boys’ room.

"But..." Mr. Schuester bites his lip, looks between Santana stretched across the couch like a tame pinup and the conjoined room full of boys, but lets it go.

He doesn’t notice that they don’t take any of the bedding with them.

***

Blaine plops glumly on the floor he has been exiled to with the boys.

“We’re not that bad,” Sam says around a mouthful of previously strung popcorn snatched from the tree and methodically unstrung to turn it back into a snack.

Blaine responds by looking longingly to the other room.

"Okay guys, like we planned it." Puck picks up his guitar. “Just keep it quiet.”

The boys make their best attempt at assembling in a semi-coordinated fashion they’ve clearly rehearsed. Blaine watches in bewilderment.

Finn nudges Blaine, [sing speaking](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mmy-uOK9lLI), “ _We all hate the holidays_.”

Blaine blinks up at him. He’s about to protest that he loves all holidays when Finn continues, “ _Our parents act crazy,_ ” with a nod toward the door Mr. Schuester retreated through.

Puck strums in backup as Artie adds in, in his best gangster style, “ _And the mall is insane_.”

Sam wheels Artie toward the living room as everyone joins in on, “ _Let's skip it all and have a non-traditional non-denominational celebration_.”

Blaine watches in confusion. Brittany takes his arm to pull him along.

Regard for volume disappears. Puck strums louder in the low light, guided by the red and green flashes from the tree and the Yule log on TV.

The girls and Kurt lift their heads as the rest of boys serenade them with the chorus of the suggestive holiday song. Kurt’s eyes are wide. Quinn and Mercedes hide their laughs behind their hands. Tina cackles. Sam gyrates his hips at “ _I want to give you a present_ ” and the other boys try their hardest to look more sexy than bumbling as they follow suit. Santana catcalls at them.

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Kurt mouths. Blaine isn’t deterred from sliding next to him to continue the serenade with a far more genteel wiggle of his hips.

The two halves of glee club settle together as a whole. Sam plops down at Mercedes’ feet at the end of the song. She doesn't turn him away.

“It stopped snowing,” Finn whispers to Rachel like a secret with a nod toward the door.

Rachel bounds behind him to go look at their star.

***

Once the carols sung at top volume quiet down, Will sneaks downstairs to clear up the mess he is certain is waiting there. Flour tracks leading from the kitchen are cleaned up for Emma’s sake. Empty hot chocolate mugs move to the sink. He hums an [old Christmas song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5EWDbunGbys) to himself as he cleans that always gets stuck in his head on late nights before Christmas. With a broom and no audience he dances around the kitchen and sings softly for his own amusement.

_Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow_

_Will find it hard to sleep tonight_

He waltzes into the living room next, where the TV light flickers with the continual loop of the Yule log that replaced their show.

All his warnings against couples sleeping alongside each other are for naught. Tina and Mike snuggle in an armchair with her head on his shoulder and his head resting against hers. Brittany is back on the couch with Santana spooned in front of her. Quinn faces away curled up at their feet, looking angelic in her sleep. Kurt and Blaine are nose-to-nose, awash in blinking rainbow lights under the boughs of the exuberantly decorated tree.Rachel and Finn are at the couch’s base, her head resting on his heart.

The front door’s lock clicks open. Emma enters quietly.

“It looks like one of the neighbors is having a party: they have cars line across the - oh.” Emma cuts herself off at the sight of over a dozen teenagers asleep on the floor.

“I meant to tell you.”

“I see they wore themselves out,” Emma responds in hushed tones. She removes her hat and coat, each move even more careful than usual so as not to wake them.

Will shakes his head. “These kids never listen to me.” It comes out mostly fond. “I told the boys to sleep in the other room.”

“15 is too many, right?” Emma jokes as she takes them in.

“Hmm?”

“You’re pretending they’re yours,” Emma observes.

“They’re messy. They fight. They don’t listen to me. They _are_ my kids.” They look like a family waiting for Santa.

“At least they’re happy.”

Will nods. With his kids, that counts for a lot.

Emma joins him on the party clean up and the final refrain. The glee club collectively pretends the singing of an old Christmas carol doesn’t wake them.

_Although it’s been said many times, many ways_

_Merry Christmas to you._


End file.
